Nabiki - Dark Justice
by SoulSurvivor
Summary: As the wheel of fate turns, hero's can be found in the unlikeliest of places.
1. Incident in Tokyo

Nabiki--Dark Justice  
by Soul Survivor  
  
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Disclaimer: The rights to Ranma 1/2 belong to Rumiko Takahashi and any others that she has liscenced them to.  
Black Hood is the property of Dark Horse Comics  
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Chapter One  
  
Nabiki was scared shitless. Of all the things to happen around her, this had to be the absolute worst.  
  
All she'd wanted was a quiet night away from the madness of Nerima, and when Toshi'd invited her to a concert in Tokyo, she'd jumped at the chance. Now Toshi was dead and if the Tong creeps they'd stumbled on saw her face, there'd be no place she could hide.  
  
Of all the stupid shit, Toshi just HAD to play hero when some punk got pushy on the dance floor. Sure, how was he to know the little snotball had friends? Still... The bastard and his butt-bodies jumped them on their way to the train station, and for once Toshi did the smart thing, he'd grabbed her and they'd hauled ass like there was no tomorrow. They'd almost made it, too, then Lady Luck just had to piss on their parade.  
  
Their midnight run had left them lost in the warehouse district, and Toshi had made the mistake of approaching the first group they'd come across in hopes of borrowing a phone to call the cops. It wasn't his fault really; he was simply naive. He couldn't have known he was walking in on a major drug deal. Luckily for her, she'd been a bit suspicious, and had ducked behind a dumpster before they had seen her. Toshi, however...  
  
The muffled "phut" of a silenced pistol and the blood spraying from the exit wound in Toshi's head would haunt her for the rest of her life. Now here she was, trapped like a rat... The only way out was past a group of gun toting thugs, and if they saw her, she would never be safe again.  
  
"Now would be a great time, Ranma... Hell, I'd settle for Kuno right about now." Of course, it wasn't likely to happen, not at all... Unlike Nerima, Tokyo didn't have an over-abundance of uber-martial artists to save the day when things got a little hairy. Besides, these goons had guns, and as good as the Nerima crew were, no one could outrun a bull...  
  
He came out of the shadows, an avenging angel, twin pistols blazing and an executioner's hood covering his features. For a moment he seemed invincible, moving with a speed and skill to rival any Nerimian, his blows sending men flying, the crunch of breaking bones clear even to where she hid. But as strong and fast as he was, he didn't have eyes in the back of his head. It all ended with a single shot, as her savior was flung forward by the impact of a high caliber round. He tried to get up, but the remaining thugs fired round after round into him, driving him into the ground, till he moved no more.  
  
Shuddering, she watched as they pulled the hood off of his head, revealing the pain twisted face of a nameless gaijin. One of them tossed the hood towards the dumpster and she stifled a shriek when it landed on her... Unfortunately, not well enough. Immediately two of the men turned towards her with pistols drawn, then cautiously approached.  
  
There was no time for rational thought. In a panic, she grabbed the hood, pulling it on to hide her face in the desperate hope of dashing past them to freedom. Then, everything changed...  
  
As the hood settled into place, she felt an icy anger fill her, washing away her previous terror, as if it had never existed at all. Instead of her planned escape, she found herself vaulting over the dumpster, her heel crushing the nearest thug's jaw like crystal with a devastating flying kick. Landing, she drove her knee into his partner's gut, folding him almost double as his feet left the floor. Without conscious thought, his gun was in her hand and firing.  
  
Hitting the floor and rolling, she was in their midst before they could react, her childhood training in her family's art suddenly clear in her mind. Fists and feet lashing out with deadly precision, complemented at need by the pistol in her hand, she dropped them one by one. Taking a lesson from her predecessor, she made a point of keeping her back covered, for while there was no fear of death within her, there was a brutal survival instinct, backed by a predatorial drive to kill... Kill?  
  
Stopping cold, she watched as the last of the thugs collapsed to the floor. Surveying the carnage about her, she felt the pistol slip from nerveless fingers and bile rise in her throat. Out of over a dozen men, one was breathing, and the unnatural angle of his neck told her that it wouldn't be for long. They were murdering scum, but that was no excuse...  
  
Tearing the hood from her head, she stared at it in utter revulsion. Then, hauling back to throw it as far from her as possible, she froze, her father's voice echoing in her mind. "It is a martial artist's duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves."  
  
While not having practiced the art for years, she was still her father's daughter. What she held in her hand was power, a deadly power, yes, but then again, no deadlier than the school to which Ranma and her sister were heirs. Yes, she had killed, but then, would... No, COULD Ranma or Akane have avoided doing so under the circumstances? Maybe... Then again, maybe not.  
  
Once again, she surveyed her surroundings, this time taking into account the briefcases busted open during the fight. One was full of yen notes, several million from the look of it, the other, clear wrapped bricks of white powder, cocaine or heroin, she couldn't tell which. Then she forced herself to look at Toshi's body, his final look of shock frozen on his face.  
  
While little more than friends, his death was a blow to her, one that would take her time to recover from. If nothing else, his murder was avenged, in that she could take a cold comfort at least. That, and the poison those bastards were peddling would never see the streets, an anonymous phone call would see to that.   
  
Stuffing the hood into her purse, she was about to go when a thought struck her. The drugs were one thing, but the money, on the other hand, would do no one any good sitting in an evidence room...  
  
Grabbing the case, she was relieved to find that it would close again, then, pausing only long enough to wipe clean the pistol she had used, she left the alley in search of a phone.  
  
tbc  
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I will be continuing this. 


	2. Investigation

Nabiki-- Dark Justice  
  
-----  
Disclaimer: The rights to Ranma 1/2 belong to Rumiko Takahashi and any others that she has liscenced them to.  
Black Hood is the property of Impact Comics  
-----  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"Alright, Miss Tendo, let's go over this one last time. You and your boyfriend were attacked outside the auditorium, and then..."  
  
Nabiki was acutely aware of the locker key in her pocket as she once again repeated her story to the police detective. The first thing she'd done upon arriving in Nerima was to stash the money in a rental locker at the station. Her story would be hard enough to swallow without several million Yen in drug money to complicate the issue.   
  
"As I said before, officer, he insisted that we split up. He said he'd draw them off and then meet up with me here, in the Nerima station... I waited, but when he didn't show up... I just know something's happened to him, I just know it!" 'Careful, girl,' she warned herself, 'don't overdo it now.'  
  
The detective took a few more notes before responding.  
  
"Well, Miss Tendo, all I can do for now is notify the Tokyo Precinct of the situation and see if they've come across anything. The best thing you can do at the moment is go home and rest. With any luck he's on a later train and will call you when he gets in."  
  
As the detective escorted her to the taxi that would take her home, Nabiki pondered the last couple of hours. Of everything that had happened, what troubled her the most were her reactions, or rather, her lack of them. Her friend Toshi was dead, shot in the head right in front of her... One would expect just a little more emotion than what she was currently feeling, right? And yet... All the really felt at the moment, was a grin satisfaction that his death had been avenged.  
  
She cared... Didn't she? Yet, here she was, calm as could be, lying to the police, prepared to lie to her family as well. Then again, what else could she do? How could she explain her actions in the alley? No, better to keep quiet, let it blow over...  
  
Then there was the hood. Why did she still have it? Why hadn't she tossed it immediately? That still troubled her... Time and time again, as she had waited for the proper time to call the police, she had been ready to toss it in the nearest trashcan, when something had stopped her. Why? It didn't take a genius to realize the hood was trouble, trouble she really didn't need in her life... Yet there it was, its' weight negligable, yet strangely reassuring in her purse.  
  
Shaking her head to clear it, she thanked the officer escorting her and got into her cab. Now was most definitely NOT the time for an internal argument, no, now was the time for rational thought. When the cops found Toshi's body, as well as the thugs she'd killed, things were going to get messy.  
  
Coincidentally, back in the alleyway where the whole mess started, someone agreed with her.  
  
"What a fucking mess," mused Detective Takamoro.  
  
Twelve Tong, two cops, one teenager, and an unidentified gaijin, all dead. Add to that five kilos of heroin, that up until yesterday morning had been sitting in a police evidence locker, and what you got was the mother of all migraine headaches. Having all of this dumped in his lap at what was fast becoming the ass-crack of dawn wasn't helping matters either.   
  
Firing up a smoke, he made his way over to the mobile crime lab, hoping against hope that SOMEBODY had a fucking clue as to what had gone down here.  
  
"Gimme some good news here, Yoshi."  
  
The expression on the lab tech's face blew his hopes out of the water even before the man answered.  
  
"No can do, lieutenant, no can do. The more evidence we gather, the less sense the whole scenario makes."  
  
Takamoro could feel his day getting worse by the minute, not that it could get much worse than it already was. Well, nothing for it, might as well get started here.  
  
"So... What DO you have for me?"  
  
"Well, sir, try this for fun. You've got sixteen people, fifteen of them armed with various handguns, all of which were fired I might add, yet ten of the folks here did not die of gunshot wounds."  
  
"Well, what the hell did they die of, then?"  
  
"Best I can tell, they died from blows delivered in hand to hand combat, some, judging from the bruise size, were courtesy of the gaijin over there. Who, incidentally, died of many, many gunshot wounds, a good number of which, I am certain, were delivered post-mortem."  
  
"Alright, then. That much makes a crazy kind of sense so far. We've got two crooked cops selling five kilos of heroin. For reasons unknown, we have a crazy gaijin vigilante show up outta nowhere, and start busting heads. He's outnumbered, gets plugged, then, they plug him some more out of sheer pissitivity. Then what? And where does the kid fit in?"  
  
"Well, sir, that's where it gets weird. I'm guessing the kid was capped before the gaijin showed, which might have been the reason he jumped in, but... Well, I can't be completely sure without a full post-mortem in the lab, but the bruises on the majority of the corpses suggest that they were done in by a rather petite girl, or a man with extremely small hands and feet. Which is well nigh impossible when you take into account the sheer amount of damage each blow did. A man your size would literally need a bat to do the level of tissue and bone damage I'm seeing here."  
  
Disbelief plain on his face, Takamoro let his gaze sweep the carnage of the alley before replying.  
  
"There is no way that can be right... So what you're saying is that some girl or some punk kid wandered into a group of pissy trigger-happy hoodlums and wiped the floor with them? I dunno, Yoshi, that just seems kinda hard to swallow. Tell ya what, gimme a call when you get anything else, alright? I've got about a ton of paperwork to do, and that's BEFORE your full report filters through."  
  
"Will do, sir."  
  
Heading for the station, Takamoro was certain of one thing... It was gonna be a looong day.  
  
Tbc 


	3. Daily Grind

Nabiki - Dark Justice  
  
Chapter III - Complications  
  
  
Twisting under her sheets, Nabiki slept, her mind awash with images she desperately wished to forget. Her rumpled covers and bedclothes, both soaked in sweat despite autumn's chill that crept in through her open window were signs of the futility of her wish.  
  
Over and over, she heard the muffle 'phut' of the silenced pistol as the back of Toshi's head blew out in a reddish gray mist, and all she could do was crouch there, out of sigh behind that damn dumpster, helpless to stop it. The granite shore of her icy calm was being worn down by waves of guilt, fear and doubt, and soon there would be nothing to protect her from the world around here, soon her soul would be laid bare.  
  
Then the image shifted to the fight itself, the rush of power from the hood, the feeling of flesh and bone giving way beneath her fists and feet, the heady smell of cordite in the air, then the blood... Blood on her hands, on her shoes and spattered on her clothes as well. Here the demons of guilt and self loathing came out to play, telling her how bad of a person she truly was. Nabiki the killer, Nabiki the unfeeling bitch who lied to the cops with a straight face not 2 hours after her friend was shot right in front of her. All of her emotions, all of her demons were seeing to it that she paid for her sins in her own private little hell.  
  
Yet through all of this, there was a point of light, an area of calm and control, Something that offered peace to her troubled soul. All she had to do was claim it, use it, make it her own and all would be well... For a while.  
  
Reaching out, she embraced the light, clinging to it as a drowning man will cling to anything that will keep him afloat.  
  
On the edge of awareness, Nabiki thrust her hand into her pillowcase, closing it instinctively on the scrap of black fabric hidden within. Pulling the hood over her head, she felt its icy calm embrace her, liberating her from her demons for yet another night.  
  
Standing, she slipped out of her bedclothes tossing them aside as she allowd the chiil night air caress her naked flesh. Then, slowly and deliberately, she dressed herself in silk clothing that she had 'borrowed' from Ranma as it allowed her more freedom of movement. Once properly attired, she slipped from her window to the roof and from there off into the night. The hood had a price for the calm it granted her... Now it was time to hunt.  
  
From his room in the attic of the Tendo Dojo, a wrinkled old man paused in his ironing to watch the hooded figure leave, and frowned in confusion. While he could feel the chi of Soun's middle daughter, he could also sense the presence of others around her, chi ghosts of a sort, aiding and bolstering her energies with their own. This bore looking into.  
  
Torn momentarily between his curiosity and the pastel blue panties on his ironing board, he finally decided to keep his priorities straight and do what was important. 'Besides' he thought to himself, 'I can always get Saotome to check it out in the morning.' So, with the incident, if not forgotten than at least files away for later reference, he returned his attention to his beloved beauties. "Ahh... My silky darlings..."  
  
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Hidoshi Takamoro was annoyed. No, he was beyond annoyed... He was Royally Pissed.  
  
"What the hell do you mean, his file is gone!? I was told that it had arrived this goddamn morning! Are you telling me that you managed to lose it in less that four fucking hours!!!"  
  
The object of the angry detectives verbal assault, a rather flustered young file clerk at Tokyo General Hospital, chewed her lip a moment before anwering.  
  
"Errm... Not lost sir, destroyed. I shredded them myself a little over an hour ago."  
  
As nervous as she was, the clerk had to bite back a smirk as the rather rude detectives face proceded to turn a rather fascinating shade of purple, the veins on his forehead bulging in time to the pounding of his heart. For just a moment, it seemed as he were going to scream, instead, when he spoke, it was little more than a strangled gasp.  
  
"You... You shredded them!!? What the fuck for!!!"  
  
Bringing herself fully under control, she schooled her features into an inscrutable mask of perfect calm, striving to keep and even tone of voice as she answered.  
  
"In accordance with instructions I recieved from the Prime Ministers office, all information on the American, Wayne Sidmonson, was destroyed and his body turned over to the American Consulate along with all of his personal effects."  
  
The detectives purple face got just a little darker upon hearing this, and his hands began to shake. Forcibly calming himself, Takamoro seethed at the injustice of it all. Finally, he was able to speak in a reasonably calm voice.  
  
"Did they give you any reason for this?"  
  
With only the barest hint of a smirk, the young lady looked Takamoro in the eye. Pausing a second for effect, she delivered her final verbal bitchslap in a sacharinne laced tone.  
  
"I'm sorry detective, that information is classified."  
  
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Later that day, the detective had gone from pissed to furious. Every lead he tried to follow on the gaijin came to a dead end. It was as if the man had never existed at all. Worse than that, his only other subject couldent exist at all.  
  
Aside from bruises that were disproportionatly small for the damage inflicted, his only other lead was a smudged partial print on one of the pistols. While useless for ID it did tell him two things. One, he was dealing with either a girl or a small man with feminine hands.. And two, he was dealing with someone who had the presence of mind to wipe down the pistol before leaving it behind.  
  
According to ballistics, the pistol had accounted for four of the Tong trash in that alley three in the head and one through the heart to be exact. Not to mention on crooked cop, also through the heart. However, it also accounted for eight of the rounds in the late Mr. Sidmonson which left an interesting picture. Either subject 'X' was involved in the shooting of the gaijin, which didnt seem right. Or subject 'X' disarmed a trigger happy tong punk, capped him with is own pistol and _then_ proceeded to open a can of whoopass on the rest of the involved parties... Equally as improbable, and yet...  
  
At least he could be sure that the pistol was not Simonsons. The gaijin's preference seemed to go to larger calibers, as was evidenced by the two .50 Desert Eagles found at the scene. 'Not to mention the rather large holes found in a few of those chink gangsters'  
  
So, in the end, that left him with either a girl or a small framed man who moved like Jet Li, punched like Mike Tyson and Shot like Billy the Kid... Yep... Today was going to suck dog balls.  
  
Tbc 


End file.
